


In the shadow of the Venus of Nevada

by adelaide_rain



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-01
Updated: 2011-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:57:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adelaide_rain/pseuds/adelaide_rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur gets obsessed with roadside oddities and Eames gets down on one knee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the shadow of the Venus of Nevada

It’s over 1,300 miles from Denver to Seattle. Longer when you avoid the main roads because you’re afraid someone might be on your tail.

Besides, Arthur and Eames are in no great hurry. Neither of them has driven in this part of the States before so they’re taking it slow. They’ve seen waterfalls and canyons, mountains and plains. They’ve even seen a sphinx and a weird sculpture of a tree that has what appears to be tennis balls instead of leaves. There’s a lot more weird stuff around here than Arthur expected. Then again, there’s a lot of wilderness around here and as a city boy he’s always been suspicious of so much open space; surely it has to do something to people’s minds.

They’ve pulled into a motel for the night. It’s not exactly luxurious but so far it’s cockroach-free and the shower is wonderfully refreshing after a long day on a dusty highway.

When he comes out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, Eames is lying on their bed with his laptop. He’s also taken off his shirt and Arthur stares at Eames’s broad, tattooed back and licks his lips. They’ve not had sex in Utah before. Perhaps they should do something about that.

“There’s a mystery spot not far from here,” Eames says.

It’s so at odds with what Arthur’s thoughts that it takes him a moment to react. “What the hell’s a ‘mystery spot’?”

“Look,” Eames says, waving him over with a level of excitement that Arthur is almost certain is undeserved. Seeing the pictures and description does not change his opinion.

“That’s not a ‘gravitational anomaly’, Eames. That’s a house built on a weird angle.”

Eames fixes him with a long, cool look. “And you’ve done scientific studies there, have you doctor?”

“Just look at the goddamn picture.”

“I want to go.”

“Jesus christ, what are you, fucking twelve? Fine. We’ll go. It’s on the way.”

“And what about this?” Eames clicks a link but before it can load, Arthur shuts the lid of the laptop and puts it on the floor. Eames frowns and has his mouth open to say something, but when Arthur divests himself of the towel around his waist and straddles Eames, the frown drops away and he grins. “Ah. You have other things you want to see? Like-“

“Don’t,” Arthur says, not in any mood for whatever terrible pun Eames was about to make about his cock. A kiss deters any further comments and soon Eames is too busy gasping and digging his nails into Arthur’s shoulders to think of puns.

After the lights are out and they’ve settled down to sleep, Arthur smiles in the darkness and kisses Eames’s shoulder. They’ll go to this mystery spot; it’ll be good, dumb fun - relaxing after the stress of the last job. There’s still fifteen days before they have to be in Seattle - plenty of time for sightseeing.

==

Arthur didn’t count on getting addicted to seeing the weird shit around here. He blames his parents. When he was a kid, he and his brother always asked to go see the sideshow attractions when they were on vacation - fiji mermaids and fire-eaters and all that Ripley’s Believe It or Not! stuff. Every single time they were shot down and dragged off to more civilised amusements. So it makes sense that he’s just making up for lost time, right?

It looks like he’s overdoing it a bit though. Even Eames is bemused and he usually loves kitsch, as proven by his wardrobe.

Their latest trip has taken them into the Nevada desert, on the outskirts of Death Valley. They would have been here sooner but both of them got distracted by Vegas – they saw the sights, fucked in each of the major casinos and thanks to Eames’s gambling skills they’re half a million dollars better off.

Now they’re out under the endless blue sky, heat haze shimmering up from the tarmac. Eames is wearing aviators and a threadbare t-shirt, looking scruffy and effortlessly gorgeous; he’s also stomping back to the car in a temper. Something about this latest site has pushed him over the edge and they’ve just had a screaming match in the middle of a ghost town. It wasn’t even about anything in particular – they’re both hot and tired and Eames has apparently hit his roadside-oddity-limit.

After taking a minute to breathe and relax, Arthur follows him, sliding into the warm interior of the car and looking over at Eames. He’s taken his sunglasses off and is glaring at Arthur.

“For someone whose favourite apartment is in Kenya, you don’t handle the heat very well,” Arthur says. It’s not the wisest thing he could have come up with, but Eames just sighs.

“Fuck off, Arthur,” he says without anger.

There sit in silence for a moment, broken only by the air conditioning.

“I’m sorry I keep dragging you out to see this stuff,” Arthur says quietly.

“I’m sorry I lost my temper.”

They lean in at the same time and the last of the anger fizzles out as their lips slide together. They both know how to make the other flare up but they never stay angry at each other for long; one day they might even learn how not to needle each other. Relaxing into the kiss, Arthur tries to get closer to Eames but is thwarted by the parking brake.

“Can we go back to Vegas?” Eames asks, taking Arthur’s hands. “Please?”

“And what are we going to do in Vegas that we’ve not just done?”

“Get married.”

Arthur already has his mouth open with a retort before his brain registers what Eames said, and stares, open-mouthed as he replays the sentence in his head.

“What?”

Eames shrugs. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. And seeing all those chapels of love – since you seem to be into that kind of thing at the minute, it seemed appropriate.”

Arthur runs a hand through his hair, a smile forcing its way onto his lips and refusing to be pushed away. “You want to get married by Elvis because I’m on a kitsch trip?”

“No, I want to get married because I love you and plan on spending the rest of my life with you. Your current obsession just helped me decide on the location.”

Arthur huffs and fiddles with the air conditioning, trying to blame the redness of his cheeks on the heat. “Eames, your proposal sucks.”

Eames chuckles then gets out of the car. Arthur’s not sure whether he’s supposed to get out as well or stay where he is. He takes advantage of the moment to take his totem out of his pocket and check it. Not dreaming. It feels like a dream – it feels more like a dream than anything Arthur’s experienced. But his die rolls three again and again - it’s no dream. He’s really been proposed to in the shadow of a sculpture of a naked woman made from cinder blocks.

His door opens and Eames takes his hand, pulling him out into the baking heat. Smiling, Eames drops to one knee on the sandy ground and takes Arthur’s hand.

“Arthur, darling. I love you madly, despite your many eccentricities. Will you marry me?”

Arthur’s expecting some kind of joke ring – something from a vending machine or fashioned from a bit of wire Eames found in the trunk – so he’s surprised when Eames slides a slim band of silver with a white gemstone onto his finger.

“It’s from Tiffany’s,” Eames says. “Diamond and everything. Of course, considering you’ve lost all sense of taste I think I should have saved the money and got you some plastic thing.”

Arthur stares at the ring on his finger, elegant and tasteful, not at all something he would have expected Eames to choose. Then again, he would never have expected Eames to propose to him. Delight bubbling through him and he’s grinning, he can’t help it and he can’t stop, he doesn’t _want_ to stop.

“Of course I’ll marry you,” he says, hauling Eames to his feet and shoving him against the car, kissing him hard. He breaks off to say, “You’re an irritating son of a bitch but I love you,” before kissing him again, again.

Eventually Eames pushes him away, grinning and breathless. “How about we go check back into the Bellagio, continue this there? The naked Lego woman is giving me the creeps.”

“Fantastic,” Arthur says, pushing Eames into the passenger seat and heading round to the driver’s side.

Pulling onto the highway, Arthur floors it. He’s still grinning - he can’t stop. They’re getting married. Arthur has a fucking diamond engagement ring on his finger. And a shotgun wedding. Fuck, this is ridiculous.

They’re going to have to have a second ceremony, there’s no doubt about that. First, Ariadne would never forgive them if she didn’t get an invite, not to mention how their families would feel. Second, Arthur wants to arrange a _real_ wedding with morning suits and cravats, cake and flowers and music.

But first, Eames wants to indulge Arthur’s fetish one last time and get married by Elvis.

God, Arthur loves him.

**Author's Note:**

> The Venus of Nevada in the title can be seen [here](http://www.roadsideamerica.com/story/12538). The other stuff mentioned can be seen on the [same site](http://www.roadsideamerica.com/).


End file.
